Understanding
by TrinityBatch
Summary: from a prompt hiddleslock221B gave to me! "Molly is hiding something from Sherlock. He knows it, but he doesn't know what. When he finds out, he realizes that they aren't as different from each other as he thought." Sorry for the long wait!


**Understanding**

Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock, I'd have time to take some time off school and actually get some sleep. Alas, I don't own Sherlock or sleep. Life sure is hard, idn't it? :3 (No, that was not a typo)

* * *

He just doesn't understand.

Molly Hooper is a liar.

Well, Sherlock seems to think so. She has been hiding something from him for years and his interest in that secret has steadily increased, until the day he couldn't take it anymore. And well, that day is _kind of_ today.

"So, will you tell me?" He schools his expression into one of hopeful innocence.

She, in turn, also schools her expression. Into one of pure annoyance. "Honestly, Sherlock! What on earth do you think I am hiding?"

He absently rubs at his chin, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I really don't know..." He trails off, looking a bit lost. "But I _do _know you're hiding something."

"I need to leave now, Sherlock. I told you, I'm visiting my mum today."

"Yes, you did say that... But I still need your assistance with this experiment."

"You don't know my mum. She'll have quite the meltdown if I miss this, erm, dinner."

He perks up, eyes widening with excitement. "Why did you say 'dinner' like that?"

She coughs awkwardly. "I gotta go. I'll see you... around." She scurries to the door, popping her head back in to say a quick "Bye, Sherlock!"

She hears him growl as she runs to the elevator.

* * *

This just won't do. He's never been so _denied _before. He is Sherlock Holmes. Why can't he just fucking _deduce _her secret?

Because Little Molly Hooper is bloody _fantastic _at keeping secrets and hiding her emotions (Besides, of course, her infatuation with him). He, of all people, should know that.

But what kind of secret could she possibly be hiding that has to do with her mother?

_Only one way to figure out_, he thinks, hastening to gather his coat and rush out the same path his favorite pathologist took.

Taking off in a run, he knocks over the new intern, spills Doctor Morisson's coffee, and may or may not have made a child cry. Really, it wasn't his fault the brat had left that _thing _on the ground in his way. It definitely wasn't his fault when he stepped on and crushed it. Children. So careless with their toys...

He finally catches up to her when she's exiting the hospital. He makes himself scarce before she notices him tailing her. He'll just see where she's headed to.

He follows her all the way to her flat and just barely manages to ignore the urge to take a peak in the window. He hates not knowing what she's doing.

He's thinking intently about what she could possibly be up to in there, when he notices a limo pull up. Really, what could Mycroft possibly want right now? Before he can enter, a fully decked-out Molly exits the flat and gets in. Sherlock's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

What on earth?

The limo takes off, so he hails a cab.

"Follow that car!" He shouts, pointing enthusiastically at the retreating form of the limo.

"I do believe you enjoyed saying that line far too much, brother mine."

Sherlock tilts his head to the side, confused. "Mycroft? What the fuck are you doing driving a cab?"

"Oh, I just got a few reports saying there was a man loitering around Miss Hooper's home. I decided to check it out myself and seen _you_. Really, Sherlock? It isn't that hard of a deduction. She is-"

"Stop! If she doesn't tell me and I don't deduce it... it isn't... it's not fair."

"Dear God... Well, I suppose I can still take you where you need to go."

"And just where is that?"

"Ah, ah, ah, brother, no hints, remember?"

* * *

"You clearly have the wrong address, Mycroft."

"No, this is it." Sherlock openly admires the home in front of him. It does, however, resemble a castle more than a house.

It's as tall as the hospital times two, with over a hundred windows. There are fountains scattered about and he's pretty sure he spots a garden. Many other limos are pulling up and he quickly notes that there are people with full-on _ballgowns _arriving. And he had thought Molly's champagne colored, slim fitting dress was beautiful. It went down to her ankles, but was short enough to not get caught in her heels. _Heels_? Molly Hooper can barely walk without them, much less with them! He just doesn't understand.

Something is suddenly thrown into his lap.

"You'll need to blend in. Put on this tux and you might be somewhat presentable."

One can tell that Sherlock is still in dumb-shock because he readily complies, stripping in the backseat. He's tying his tie when a thought occurs to him. "Why do you have a suit readily at your disposal?"

"I figured you were one of the top 5 that could be loitering about. I also brought a taser, a gun, a rather large document, and a taco."

"...A taco?"

"Yes, he is quite fond of them."

"Who?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"I really wish I believed that was a joke." He finally finished messing about with the tie and opens the door. Before closing it, he mutters a non-committal "Thank you, Mycroft."

"Anytime, dear brother."

With that, Sherlock slams the door and walks into the house/mansion/castle.

Time to find Molly.

Man in a suit, man in a suit, man in a dress, man in a suit, woman in a suit, man in a suit woman in a dress, another man in a dress. Dear God, what kind of party is this?! Ah, Molly! Wow. Molly.

He expertly positions himself into hiding behind the pillar _conveniently _behind Molly.

"Mum, was it really necessary for me to be here? Half of the guests don't know me. I told you, I'm really behind on autopsies. Sherlock came by today and-"

"Sherlock! Dear, I've told you a thousand time to just kick his ass out of your morgue. Not that you should be working in a morgue anyway. It's improper."

"It's not my morgue, mum." He smiles when he hears her awkward laugh fill the air. He does, however, briefly note her dismissal of her mother's words. Clearly not the first time that conversation has been had.

"Margaret, it might as well be. Your father left us enough money to buy America."

Sherlock raises his eyebrows in shock. Molly...money? Wait, Margaret? Just what has she been keeping from him?! Now he really doesn't understand!

"That's bullshit and you know it." Her pointed voice floats all the way to his position behind the pillar.

"Margaret! Don't use that language here. It's improper." Molly groans and wonders why everything she does is so fucking _improper_. And why her mother is allowed to use language and not her. "Put on a smile and greet those that want to be greeted. I am going for... some more champagne. Enjoy."

When he hears her mother's retreating footsteps, he decides to make his presence known. "I see why you are busy." He says, tapping on her shoulder.

She jumps, but recovers quickly. "I should have known I couldn't keep this a secret forever." She quickly turns to face him.

"Did you want to?"

"No, I suppose not. I guess... I just wanted to keep this side of myself private. My dad was quite famous back in the day. Spent his money wisely an' all that. When he died, he left it all to me and Mum. She hasn't spent it as...wisely."

"Yes, I can see that." He responds, looking around with a smirk.

"So you understand now..."

"I understand something." He takes her hand. She doesn't let her surprise show.

"What's that?"

"You understand."

"I understand what?"

"What it's like. Growing up a genius in a wealthy family. Why I'm so-" He clears his throat. "-socially awkward. You-"

"What brought this on?"

"I was getting to that!"

"Oh, well, get on with it, will you?"

Setting a glare upon her, he continues. "I did not want to burden you with my, well, eccentricities that I gained from a wealthy youth. Clearly, you will understand them! This is brilliant!"

"Hold up, Sherlock! What is brilliant? I don't understand."

"Oh, but you do! You understand perfectly and now I do too. I quite love you, Molly Hooper. Do you return my affections?"

"Christ, you know I do, but where is this coming from?" After seeing his dejected expression, she continues with a pitiful smile. "Just slow down a bit and I'll catch up. We can't all be geniuses, ya know." He smiles back.

"I suppose. You see, when I first met you, I-" He clears his throat uncomfortably. "-I was attracted to you. But I am very involved in my work, as you know. You proved to me time and time again that you were just as dedicated to your own work... So you understood that. Then you showed you understood what I was feeling during the most difficult time of my life. Now, I realize, you understand what it's like growing up like me... Though, for the record, my mother is much more pleasant than your's seems to be! I just want to...be with... someone that understands me. Am I making any sense?"

"Not a lot, but enough. You know how I feel about you, Sherlock. We will discuss another time when we are not in the presence of my eavesdropping mother, who by the way, is not thrilled with the insult." Sherlock turns around and sees her mother hiding behind the very same pillar he had been. Damn.

"Yes, well, as long as you are open to producing offspring we have nothing left to discuss!"

"I suppose we have time to talk now, love!"

"As I thought." And with that, she takes his offered arm, and they both skip off into the sunset. Or, well, upstairs to the nearest bedroom. You wouldn't understand.

END

**A/N**

**Sorry I haven't been on! I've been terribly busy with school and I've not been sleeping again. I'm afraid I'm just going to get even more busy :( What with prom, school projects, and I have been put in charge of a kids retreat at church and that's a really big deal! I suppose I ask for all of this and have no right to complain. I wish I didn't need to take college prep because that stresses the fuck out of me! School is my life and I quite hate school at the moment. What does that say about me?**

**Sorry for blathering on like that. I've had a difficult two weeks. This story has been a process for a few weeks now. I wrote it for the prompt that hiddleslock221B gave me. Hope you enjoyed it, dear! :)**


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